The Transition - Part 1

Today was a very interesting day, from both a flying and from a mental perspective. The lesson plan for today was fairly simple, and it involved things that I am quite familiar with either through past lessons or other flying. Mainly, we were concerned with operations at an uncontrolled field and performing some touch-and-gos to perfect the landing sequence. This might take a while, so I'll split it into multiple parts. Even so, the flight was so uneventful, and concentrated so much on pattern work, there wasn't much point in even posting the track for this one.

Of course, things are never as they seem, and while I was aware of some conditions that would make the flight more challenging (namely, visibility), there were a few surprises thrown in as well.

The past few lessons, including today's, were supposed to have some review of ground-reference maneuvers and crosswinds, but I seem to have a knack for picking "good" flying days, with little wind. So, while it makes for easy flying, it's not really challenging enough to put the skills to good use and form good habits for windy days. So that leaves room for more mischief on the instructor's part.

But back to the beginning. If you are anywhere in the northwest this time of year, you know that there can be some smoky days due to fires miles away. That has been the case here, and I was even concerned that we might not be able to go up at all. Visibility was reported at 4 miles, with 3 being our limit for the airspace we are in. It improved as I arrived at the field, sort of, but it was still extremely hazy. Now, if you are unfamiliar with the concept of instrument flying, it is a difficult enough task to learn to switch your focus inside the cockpit and ignore your body's sensory perceptions. Even if you are familiar, it is still a conscious effort to trust your aircraft's instruments. Today, I got a task of flying without reference to the horizon, and it was a definite eye-opener!

As we climbed out, the sky was a pale white, and although the ground was plainly visible if you looked down, the horizon was gone in the murk. As we bounced along in what would have been insignificant bumps on a clear day, I actually began to get dizzy and had to quickly switch my gaze inside to focus on the dials. My eyes had no visual reference to balance from, and the short 8-minute trip to our practice field was quite a challenge until I could make out some hills in the distance to use as a guide. Clearly, even a little bit of instrument training can go a long way to alleviate this, but it was also a good warning that low (or no) visibility can instantly lead to disorientation and even panic if you are unprepared.

The pattern work itself should have also been fairly straightforward, but more on that in the next post....